


One, two, three, four assassins, too bad the third is a pirate

by Angyiel



Series: Wine and smoke make a harrowing combination [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Physical Abuse, extremely bad parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7761064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angyiel/pseuds/Angyiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your family is not something that you choose, it is something that you were given to cherish, respect and serve." This is something that would always haunt Sanji's mind.</p><p>A collection of snippets of the Straw Hats' cook's childhood through the Vinsmokes' eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The fourth son

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, here to serve you with yet another collection of Sanji angst one-shots that nobody asked for. I wanted to write a bit of our favorite cook's fucked up childhood. Most of it is only speculations and character studies of each of the Vinsmokes, though Oda has probably something else in mind, but here we go!
> 
> Please read the warnings as this work will obviously depict emotional and physical abuse, as well as spoilers for the recent chapters. Rated M to be safe.

Fate, destiny or just the course of events – the name you give to it doesn't have much significance, but _it_ gave the royal family of the northern great sea four sons in the same day. Four identical little boys meant to be raised in the same manners and yet, each of them grew into different men. They were all given a number that put them in a peculiar order, as if the first one was the oldest and the last one the youngest.

For that, Yonji was the fourth son as he was deemed as the less experienced of the four boys.

It didn't mean, however, that Yonji was an idiotic child. Being part of the Vinsmokes lineage, none of them was stupid. It meant that Yonji was a bit more hesitant than his siblings, a bit slower to understand, always needing an authoritative figure to guide him and remind him what to do. Straighten up your back Yonji, don't put your elbows on the table Yonji, your grip on your sword is not strong enough Yonji, your brother has done wrong and needs a punishment Yonji.

It was small things, details that tutors and older siblings needed to remind him until those trivial things became a second nature, something that he would do without putting a thought into it.

It was not a tedious task as Yonji was an eager child, desirous to learn, to be a better son, to get attention and compliments for his achievements. Their father was not an expressive man, but Yonji could feel when he was proud of them, when they all lined up in the hall before dinner once a week, straightening their ties and backs under their father's scrutinizing gaze, trying to perceive if they had improved the way he wanted during said week. One could say that Yonji was trying too hard to please his parent, but himself didn't see it that way. Their father deserved powerful successors.

Sanji was different though.

Sanji and Yonji behaved like slightly older brother and slightly smaller brother despite the fact that they were the same age, only a few minutes apart. But Sanji was the one whispering in his ear to pay attention during the lessons, to be careful of his past mistakes so he won't make them again this time. Yonji always listened because he always had a need for someone to tell him and remind him over and over. Yet, he sometimes asked himself why Sanji didn't follow his own advice. He was the one getting constantly and harshly scolded because he wasn't behaving like a proper Vinsmoke child.

Many years later, Yonji would realize that Sanji was probably protecting him of some terrible and fearful hours of punishments because he was the one who knew best how it was. Not that it mattered. Sanji was long gone and it was his own fault. He should have listened, because Father knows best.

There was one memory of his brother that Yonji could get rid of though.

It was a cold night, the kind of cold that numerous layers of blankets could not make run away. So a five-year-old Yonji found himself wandering in the empty and dark corridors of the mansion when he should have been sleeping. But he was not worried, he had done great today, the look in Father's eyes had told him so. He spotted a faint dancing light under a doorstep, probably from a candle. Wasn't that the library? The maids wouldn't work there at this hour. Curious, Yonji pushed the door open.

What he saw was his brother, the number three on the back of his nightwear clearly in sight, struggling on the top of a wooden ladder to catch a book that seemed far to heavy for him to carry. He finally grabbed it with a small cry of triumph before hastily quieting himself, getting down on the stone floor and clutching the huge book like it was the biggest treasure he had ever obtained.

"Whatcha doing, Sanji?"

The third son was startled, releasing his grip on the book that fell on the floor with a muffled sound that was probably too loud for Sanji's liking. Speaking of Sanji, his brother was petrified, staring at his sibling with horror.

"Please, Yonji... Don't tell anyone, you didn't see a thing, promise me, okay?"

He was getting frantic, but Yonji was just curious. He had just calmly asked a question, why was Sanji so upset?

"What's the book about?"

"It's... Recipes."

"Like the poison lesson we had the other day?"

"No, it's like... Cooking recipes."

Sanji talked in an almost inaudible voice that Yonji had to get closer to hear him. Sanji stepped back, shaking and breathing too loudly.

"Yonji, please, don't tell Ichiji or Niji or Father or anyone!"

Yonji was fidgeting, twisting his fingers like he did when he was thinking real hard.

"I don't remember Father saying that cooking is a bad thing. And if we have this in the library, then it must not be a bad thing. So I won't tell!"

Sanji seemed surprised for a few seconds. Then hesitantly, he smiled, a big smile like Yonji had never seen on his brother's face and he jumped at him, hugging him and hugging wasn't really something that the Vinsmoke did so Yonji just made a confused face before putting his hands on his brother's shoulders and Sanji was happy for once, he looked like Reiju, not having his usual blank and hesitant look he had on his face during the lessons or in front of Father so it must have been a good thing to do, right? Sanji let him go, bending down to pick up the book again and opened it, showing Yonji a picture of an apple pie. Yonji had never seen him so excited.

"See this? Lately I've been sneaking into the kitchen and there's a cook there that is teaching me things. His name is Erik and he's super nice with me! He told me to read this book before teaching me!"

Days later, Yonji learned of his mistake and Sanji learned of his.

They all lined up in the hall in front of Father, like they usually did. He glanced at every single detail, like he usually did. He stopped at Sanji and that, was unusual.

"All of you, come with me."

He led them to the floor underneath the dinning hall. They were all silent, asking themselves what was going to happen, which one of them had done wrong. Yonji was the one behind as they were walking in order, but if they had walked side by side, he would have seen Sanji's eyes becoming more and more desperate with tears at each step, because he knew and recognized where they were heading.

Yonji didn't, which is why he was surprised when they entered the large kitchen where numerous cooks and maids were working, probably preparing the meal they were supposed to be eating at the moment. Their arrival wasn't expected, according to their dreadful expressions. Their father spoke up, everyone else lowering their eyes in respect. Or in fear.

"It has been brought to my attention that one of my sons has been visiting this place lately. One of you has been teaching him how to cook."

Disgust and disdain could be seen underneath the head of the family's mask, as if he could not even apprehend the concept of cooking being worthy enough of his rank.

"I will ask only once. Which one of you is at fault?"

Between Niji and Yonji, Sanji was trembling with silent tears, biting his lip so strongly that blood was tainting his teeth.

Then, Yonji spoke up.

"Father, Sanji told me of a cook named Erik."

Someone gasped, a kitchen tool fell on the floor. The king eyed his fourth son for a few seconds before turning around and Yonji could have sworn that he had seen the phantom of a proud smile on Father's face. He smiled in return, honored of such attention, a warm feeling settling in his chest.

He didn't notice Sanji's betrayed look and his baby blue eyes that could not stop the tears anymore.

"Whoever is called Erik, step up."

For a moment, no one moved, still starring at the floor. Then a maid pushed a slender and trembling man towards his king. Vinsmoke Judge let out a mocking chuckle.

"Yonji, come here."

Yonji approached his father, smiling with all his teeth, looking like any innocent child of his age. Father put a seemingly enormous hand on his small shoulders, pushing a dagger in his hand.

"It is time to show me what you have learned during your lessons," he said, and then with a harsh and scolding voice, "Sanji, I will not allow you to look away. Cooking is not a task worthy enough of a Vinsmoke. You will understand your position, boy."

Less than half an hour later, even though it had seemed much longer for Sanji, Yonji pushed his disobedient brother against the wall of a cold cell. Splatters of fresh blood covered the fourth sibling's hands and the third's face. Sanji was clutching his arms, curling up in a ball against the stone wall his brother had thrown him against. His eyes were wide, he was letting out small cries with a cracking voice, as if his mind was still in the kitchen, being told that he would never cook again, being the powerless witness of the murder of his only friend by his own brother, his brother that he protected and helped every day. He suddenly raised himself up, approached his brother, but falling back on his knees.

"Yonji, please, please, please..."

"Father said that cooking was bad. We just didn't know. Now you need to learn."

Yonji stepped out, closing the door behind him. Sanji looked physically struck then got up, ran and grabbed the bars of the cell.

"Yonji, don't leave me here, don't leave me alone, please! Please Yonji, let me out!"

His brother disappeared from his view.

Many floors above, in the usual dining room, Vinsmoke Judge congratulated his heirs.

"You have done well today, Yonji. Your brother does not follow the rules and does not understand things like you all do. From now on, you three will have to show him. If he cannot learn, he was simply not meant to be part of our family's legacy."

All three of them nodded, perfectly in sync. They didn't need to be told a second time. Just like Sanji used to warn him to pay attention, Yonji would make him understand.

 

 


	2. The second son

Fate, destiny or just the course of events – the name you give to it doesn't have much significance, but it gave the royal family of the northern great sea four sons in the same day. Four identical little boys meant to be raised in the same manners and yet, each of them grew into different men. They were all given a number that put them in a peculiar order, as if the first one was the oldest and the last one the youngest.

For that, Niji was the second son as he was deemed as the most resentful of the four boys.

Jealousy and wrath were buried deep in the second son’s chest, boiling like magma. It never rested and slept, it was not the kind of feeling that could be cooled down with sleep and comforting words. Instead, it threatened to blow up and destroy everything Niji felt rage over. Because Niji was drowning in his burning enviousness. The average son stuck between a daydreamer like Yonji that couldn’t think for himself and yet received praise nonetheless and the perfect brother Ichiji that never failed to accomplish his tasks with precision and effectiveness. Niji didn’t have that. He didn’t have Yonji’s tardiness to learn and Ichiji’s quick thinking to stand out and receive approval. He only had his anger building up each day, even though he tried to conceal it behind a serious look to show his devotion.

Because Niji was with no doubt the most passionate about everything he did. He took pride in each lesson he mastered, each mission he completed. He could never get enough of this feeling of being useful, bringing power and glory to their namesake. He was giving shape to his country and family’s future. He was going to be one of the pillars of the Vinsmoke dynasty, without being in the shadows of his brothers.

… Which is why, as much as he resented his brothers in a way the middle child of a set of siblings did, he despised Sanji the most. Sanji wasn’t the perfect child, nor the late one, in fact he was like him. Average. Nothing special. Except that Sanji helped Yonji and didn’t try to surpass his two other brothers. He never tried to improve and that was what irritated Niji. He didn’t even make any effort to meet their father’s expectations and his hesitation to learn the list of different effective poisons, his inability to fully master sharpshooting and swordsmanship, the glint in his eyes that just screamed that he didn’t want to kill... It annoyed him. Sanji didn’t do anything the right way and he wasn’t punished enough for it and it just wasn’t fair.

Niji was quiet during their lessons, eyeing his brother looking down with shame and disgust at each reproach, a look that made Niji clench his fists. He watched him straighten himself and his stance under Ichiji’s attentive gaze and help Yonji with small details that he shouldn’t be helped with. Then the incident with the kitchen and the cook whose name he forgot right away happened. Their father’s words stayed and played over and over in his head. Everything became clear. Sanji wasn’t one of them. He was a traitor. So just like Father asked, he would make him understand.

Shortly after the said incident, Father declared that they were ready to show him their fighting skills. Thus, once a week, a new lesson began. They would battle each of their brothers one by one in a large cold room made of gray stones while Father and Reiju watched, the latter with a slight sweet smile that never seemed to go away. Fighting Yonji and Ichiji angered him even more, because if the first was not much of a challenge, the second was unbeatable, a mix of deceitful tactics and perfect mastering of the arms. He needed something else, he needed to win. So when the time to face Sanji came, he would chuckle at the sight of his frail brother on the verge of tears, but still trying to hide it because he knew what was coming. It was the moment Niji waited for during the whole week and he was not going to miss his fun.

“Let’s have fun, little brother.”

There was something laughable in Sanji trying to seem tough, holding back and hiding his fear. Niji thrived on this sense of power, knowing that he was the cause. He would let him attack first because Sanji was as furious as he was. He was starting to fear them and hate them at the same time, Sanji was starting to fight back and Niji had never seen something that hilarious in his attempts to defend himself. But Niji couldn’t care less. Sanji wasn’t one of them, he was weak, he wasn’t worthy. Those were Father’s words.

He felt relief at each punch, kick, slice he gave. He felt good.

But there was even more fun in trying and experimenting things he was taught during their lessons. They had lessons for everything, from stealth to light persuasion to torture. He knew everything effective to get information as fast as possible and he knew how to make it longer and make people scream in agony. He never went that far, but testing his new knife with carving a small cut somewhere on his little brother’s pale skin where Reiju would not see it, mocking his vain attempts to punch him away, sometimes cornering him in his room during the night… It was fun. As simple as that. (He didn’t understand why Reiju seemed to disapprove of this. She would always barge in and order him to go away and yet, she never helped their brother and would laugh with them at his lack of strength, rejecting his begging to just help him, why did I do wrong, just why.) (Niji never dared confront his sister.)

So when Sanji disappeared one day, he laughed like he never had because did he really expect to survive? He was nothing without them, a worthless boy that no one would ever want. He laughed and he cried too, like a child throwing a tantrum upon discovering that his favorite toy was gone. Learning of him being alive and back among them was welcomed with both joy and disappointment. The news of his arrival in Germa Kingdom had reached him during his mission with Ichiji and he didn't waste time for their reunion. He didn't waste time starting a fight either.

“Did you miss me, little bro?”

Sanji had gotten stronger, not even he could deny it. But strong was not only physical, it concerned also the mind. It was time to test that.

“You haven’t changed, Niji. Still the same petty child that grew into a real fine psychopath. You’re pathetic,” Sanji spat, glaring right at him and standing tall and strong despite the newly forming bruises his brother had just given him. That was new. Niji frowned, clearly displeased. In a second, he sent Sanji back towards the wall at full speed, the sound of his bones cracking sounding like a symphony to his ears.

“Who do you think you are? You think you can just come back and insult us like that?! It’s time you learn, brother.” Fury was blinding him, he could only see Sanji among the dust from the impact on the wall, like a target. He wanted to scream. He wanted to hurt. Sanji had found everything despite his disobedience, he had found companions and a reason to live and fight and move forward _without them_ and _it wasn’t fair_. Sanji had everything, Niji was still the small jealous boy that he was more than a decade ago. Niji was still living in his worst brother’s shadow, the bad one, the one that everyone should forget about according to him.

Perhaps he looked down on him because they more similar than they would ever admit. Their passion, both the good and the bad that came out of it were the same, except that Sanji didn’t use it right, he preferred to chase after myths and dreams. Pitiful.

(There was a little voice inside him that whispered to his heart sometimes. “I would like to a family that loves me for who I am too. The strength to stand up and do what I want. _A dream_.”)

“Let’s have fun, little brother.” The words echoed around them like a dreadful reminder. Sanji’s blue eyes shivered with panic and horror, suddenly remembering every agonizing moment he spent with his brother at once. Seemed like the child he once was had not disappeared after all, just like him.

Oh, he would show him. He would destroy him. He would pay, because Sanji had everything Niji wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly happy with this one, it actually became way darker (?) than I intended it to be, whoops my bad. Turns out speculating about characters and a past you know not much about is quite hard haha. Well, pretty much of the Vinsmoke are quite messed up in their heads, there's no doubt about that but I wanted to give Niji the feeling of someone insane. Or something like that. Then again, it's only speculations, I'm sure Oda doesn't have that in mind!


End file.
